Delaware Valley College of Science and Agriculture
Doylestown, Pa. 18901
Typing Art Photography
Frank Holmes Lynn Johnstone Darlene Grebe
Ana Simon Chris Shimko James Forsythe
Edward O'Brien, Jr.
George Shimko Ana Simon Chris Shimko
James Forsythe Michael Schnatz Joseph G. Lalli
The Gleaner is published during the scholastic year by the students
of Delaware Valley College of Doylestown, Pennsylvania. The
Gleaner is a student publication, and the opinions expressed
within are not necessarily those of the Gleaner staff or
administration. Neither the college nor staff will assume
responsibility for plagiarism unknowingly occurring within.
Our flag's been raised
both new and torn
Since long ago
this nation was born.
Two hundred steps
etched, well worn
This spiraling caravan
The mushroom whispering. . .
Alone, Alone — I grow alone
And make and break as one
I take the dead and give you life
I've a beauty and purpose all my own
I am needed — that is why I'm here!
Yet I — / myself am deadly
Sitting in this world I destroy and —
I am the mushroom of life.
You're like a dream that I remember
In fall. . .when morning glory overrun
the rose dried hedge. . .
like a visage of bright memory.
And bird flocks waft together
in migratory drifts.
When air grows cool, then sharp
And spiders spin their grass webs. . .
All this beauty does reflect but you
You. . . like a dream that I remember.
who says it's wrong
i went to town thee other day
and at a news stand i saws thees man
he was reading outlawed contreband
i says to thees man I say man don't you know that's Wrong
he says to me he says who says it's Wrong
so i says who says it's Right
so that man walked away
then i meself started to page through that pornographic
so thees high class elderly gentile man says son don't
you know thats Wrong
i says who are you to say it's Wrong
i'm the reverend John hoover he says, then says its
so i puts it away and follows him home
and sat on thees long bench wit many other peoples
on thee big door outside it said
"Enter You Are All Welcome in God's Home"
so i thought's thees was the Man himself
then he started talking and everyone listened and
sos did i.
he said we was all God's children but he no look
like my pa
and wit a smile he said God's only wish was that
we be fair to everyone
and we'd all be saved, but I ivasn't dying
then they passed thees wicker basket at me and
everyone was puttin' in shiny coins
but i had none sos i puts in thees little acorn
theys all laughed and said quit wit thee games
so i says fine wit me, so then they throws me out
on thee steps
God just smiled
then thee man wit thee wicker basket says that was
so i says who says it's Wrong and he says who says it's
so i walked away without me acorn
I) e a th 's R ain b o w
Yellow sun glowing in the field
Blues running to the greens
Red spills on the ground
Orange sunset is cast over all. . . .
War's Kaleidoscope has come again.
Reflects the time we've spent
The sun, moon, stars, spring-waters and
My life is mirrored by the seasons and my
The crunch of the cinders as I cross the tracks
I heard it many times as I now think back.
Glistening grass from gold sunlight.
Some Daffodils with petals bright.
The arbor stands gaunt on the hill,
With branches naked and barren still.
Timothy bouncing in the waves,
of April's breeze which fills the trees.
The steady humming of the bees
sounding like endless lisping "Z" 's.
The muddy road I walk along
My treads keep rythm to a song,
Which deep inside, the beat I know.
The Mockingbirds rap to and fro
looking for quarry high and low.
I see the barn now.
What a rustic scene. . .field stone walls and weathered wooc
Round hard snouts with beady eyes
Cloven feet scurry with surprise.
Burley Aberdeens walk with lengthy strides.
Hooks and pins under glossy hides.
The damp marsh, yet, grey and brown
with Herefords lying on the ground.
Leghorn, Yorkshire, Maine Anjou,
Cheviot, Hampshire, and a Suffolk ewe.
Like the cat perched beneath the canopy
I hope this walk will always have access for me.
Joseph G. Lalli
Lovers love cuts so deep,
carving their names, leaving tree to weep.
Autumn comes and lone lover
To tree cut memories, on the world
Slowly loves memories drift away. . .
One year has passed since that day.
In different forest, in a love so new. . .
Old forgotten tree,
only one seed grew.
Little Glass Animal
The inner stress increasing
Cracking once more
The common glass animal. . .
Worn around her neck. . .
As close as I will ever come
To her burning sapphire heart.
So near. . .yet held by a chain.
So eternally far. . .
So impossibly far.
Aspen leaves. . . trembling like my heart
in a light breeze.
Shade falling. . . green and grey
Dappled on an overcast day. . .
like my mind.
Aspen leaves. . . rattling in rough air
demanding as my love.
Wet breeze. . . portending pale rain. . .
Aspen leaves falling
Railroads and crossroads can stand
Watching, if not daring, our hearts to
Cold steel and silence, even in dark
Will never shake us from this love
we hold so tight.
It isn't often that one may find
That special person who can ease your mind.
Everyone's dreampt, and dreaming can be real.
But all too well we know, being is to feel.
We've been to a place where our hearts
were so tranquil
With the sun in our faces, our eyes
This place of which I speak, this place we know
Is not the source of our joy, but is
where our love dwells.
v * ■ * -1 . '• «
'»; ,' <\\&
She stands strong and still. . .
obeying when the wind calls and
when it is silent.
She is a thousand years old,
a hundred years old
two weeks old. . .
still in the wind. . .
she is forever.
The wind teaches her all she should know
and what it doesn't teach her she learns from
her own feelings.
And these things are all true because
she has told me.
She often talks to me while I sit in her
They are entangled in each other.
They love each other with all the love that
each has. She could not live without him. . .he
would not survive without her.
It is at the break of day when they renew
their love, it is at the end of day when they
are both silent.
But it is in the morning, with the singing
of birds and the stirring of life that they are one
in each other. For in the morning, they both
perform their acts of love. In the morning
he touches her like a man touches a woman in the
first and final stages of love. For in the morning
she opens to him and he to her.
They are beautiful together. . .
the morning glory and the sun.